


Donut Go Breakin' My Heart

by Faustess



Series: HHH Le Baguette [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Art Film, Art History, Avante Garde Cinema, Bucky Barnes-centric, Coffee, Dating, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff and Crack, Kissing, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Tony Stark, Paris (City), Romance, Slow Dancing, Swearing, Tony Stark-centric, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 00:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20200390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faustess/pseuds/Faustess
Summary: After a certain schoolgirl wanders off back to school and Natasha takes Steve back to the hotel to get the crumbs out of his hair, Tony wants to show Bucky that Paris really is a city for romance.But nothing quite goes to plan.TSB: A3 - Free SpaceBBB: K2 - FluffWIB: N3 - Free Space





	Donut Go Breakin' My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rebelmeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelmeg/gifts), [feignedsobriquet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feignedsobriquet/gifts), [justanotherpipedream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherpipedream/gifts), [kimannhart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimannhart/gifts).

Bucky and Tony spent all morning having a very leisurely breakfast and elevensies drinking coffee and sharing small pastries. Reluctantly, Tony glanced at a phone notification and winced. “Hey, Spy Who Loved Me, I’ve gotta get to that keynote speech I’m supposed to be giving. Also, Pepper says hello.” He smiled, “Can I meet you in the hotel lobby – say around eight? I’ll take you out and maybe you can actually have fun doing something coupley in Paris.”

Bucky smiled fondly, he hadn’t had such a great time since… well, he wasn’t sure, but it was definitely a long time ago. “All right. I’ll try an’ get some beauty sleep so I can be ready.” He considered, then gave Tony a peck on the cheek with a shy smile. “See you then, sweetheart. Knock ‘em dead at the conference.”

That evening, Bucky went down to the hotel lobby a few minutes early. He’d gotten a text late in the afternoon to ‘look nice’ for his date with Tony, so now he was standing in the lobby wearing a charcoal grey suit, feeling like the world’s biggest imposter.

Tony swept in, and then abruptly stopped, giving Bucky the once-over. “Wow… you don’t kid around – you look gorgeous, Robocop.”

“Thanks, you’re a sight yourself, sweetheart,” Bucky was pleased that he sounded kind of smooth – or at least he didn’t squeak like a mouse.

Tony grabbed Bucky’s hand and tugged him out of the hotel. “I’ve got a real treat for us tonight – dinner at 58 Tour Eiffel!”

“Wow – that’s the restaurant at the Eiffel Tower, right? Kinda short notice – you get reservations?” Bucky asked, skeptically.

“Oh ye of little faith. There are occasionally times when it’s good to be Tony Stark, billionaire, philanthropist, superhero,” Tony huffed, still in good humor. “Come on!”

The maître d'hôtel at the restaurant looked down his nose at Tony, “Je suis désolé, le restaurant est réservé ce soir, monsieur.” _I’m sorry, the restaurant is reserved tonight, sir._

Tony frowned, “What? The whole place?”

“Oui, monsieur,” the man at the reservation desk confirmed. “Hammer Industries a le restaurant réservé toute la nuit pour un dîner privé.” _Hammer Industries has the restaurant reserved all night for a private dinner._

Bucky watched as Tony’s mouth dropped open with indignation. He caught Tony’s arm, “C’mon, sweetheart, arguin’ isn’t gonna get us anywhere – and you don’t really want to crash a Hammer Industries party.”

Tony opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but let Bucky lead him back to street level. “Motherfucker! Ruining our date!”

“Calme-toi, chér,” _Calm down, sweetheart_, Bucky murmured. “An’ watch your language… might be impressionable kids around.

At that, Tony laughed, “All right… so now we’re all dressed up with nowhere to go.”

Bucky shrugged, “Could go to a couple places I went to when I was here.”

“During World War Two?” Now it was Tony’s turn to sound skeptical.

“C'est la belle France, Tony! Paris éternel!” _It’s beautiful France! Eternal Paris!_ “C’mon – live a little, gorgeous.”

“Only if you keep showing off your languages, Hotshot,” Tony bit his lip and waggled his eyebrows, making Bucky laugh (and blush a little) as the street lamps started flickering to life.

Bucky took Tony to the part of Paris he’d been to before, Montmartre. It had changed a lot since the war, some of the buildings gentrified – others done over for tourists. When Tony recognized where they were, he groaned, “You’re not taking me to the Moulin Rouge are you?”

“Pal, I was an _officer._ You want a classy date, I’m givin’ you a classy date. We’re not goin’ to the Moulin Rouge.” This made it sound like he hadn’t gone there with the Commandoes during the War, which was not true at all. The whole group of them had gone every night they were in Paris along with a slew of other American GIs.

Instead, Bucky took them to a restaurant, le Bouillon Chartier, the sign outside with an arrow pointing down toward the door. Tony raised an eyebrow, “Just ‘cause it’s still here, doesn’t mean anything.”

“Quit pouting – doesn’t suit you,” Bucky offered Tony his arm and they walked into the restaurant with high ceilings and immense black-framed art deco windows throughout. Chandeliers with spherical lights hovered down the main aisles of the dining area over dozens of tables covered with pink and white tablecloths. The cheerful color broke up the dark wood paneling.

“Oh… wow…” Tony looked around, “This is really nice.”

“Thanks for your unwavering faith,” Bucky said, feeling a little testy, but more inclined to be amused. “I’ll pay since it’s my choice.”

“But I asked _you_,” Tony grumbled.

Bucky kissed the corner of Tony’s mouth. “I don’t care about the money, sweetheart.”

They made eyes at one another over their table through several small plates of cheese, wine, endive salad with Roquefort, Terrine de campagne, and bread, which made them both smile. Bucky rubbed the inside of Tony’s ankle with the toe of his shoe and fed him a bite of dessert.

“This was … I don’t have words… just…” Tony stammered as they walked back into the Parisian night.

“Perfect?” Bucky suggested, smirking.

“I was gonna say ‘amazing’ again,” Tony admitted. “Where to now? The night is still young.”

“Could go walk by one of the theaters we went to while we were here. Steve and I loved it – rest of the guys, not so much. Not even Dernier.” Bucky smiled at the memory.

“Sounds good to me – let’s go,” Tony agreed, grinning.

Outside Studio 28, they met Natasha and Steve. “Hey Buck!” Steve grinned, as though the entire day had been completely normal – as though there’d been no pint-sized baguette-wielding assailant that morning or disastrous macaron-baking class yesterday at all.

“Hey Steve,” Bucky sounded somewhat less enthusiastic. It just figured that Steve would bring _Natasha_ to one of the places that _he_ actually wanted to go in the city. Bucky bought two tickets to the 1970s auteur film classic, _Fermez la Porte Jean-Paul_. ‘Shut the Door Jean-Paul.’

Tony shot a glance at Natasha, who raised her eyebrows and looked at Steve, as if to say, ‘This was his idea, not mine.’

Hesitatingly, Tony asked, “I… didn’t realize you were into art film, Buckaroo.”

“Huh? Well… when we were here with the Commandoes, we saw _Un Chien Andalou_? Luis Buñuel’s film – with Salvador Dali? Then – they didn’t bill it, but they showed _Meshes of the Afternoon_ after that. I don’t know how they got it…” Bucky’s voice trailed off when he noticed Tony wasn’t as excited as he was. “Buñuel used to come here. Was part of the theater. It was kind of like being part of history.”

“Says the guy who fought in World War Two,” Tony quipped.

Bucky stuck his tongue out. “If… if you don’t want to go, you don’t have to… I can come back tomorrow while you’re at the conference and see a matinee.”

Shaking his head, Tony replied, “Absolutely not. My idea was ruined by Justin Hammer. Your art film from the ‘70s can’t be _that_ bad.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Tony was wrong, soooo wrong… at two in the morning, Bucky and Steve had gone through several bottles of wine with the theater owner and were _still_ arguing passionately in a mixture of French, English, and Russian (for Bucky) over the symbolic meaning of the female main character’s lost pen throughout the film.

Tony glanced at Natasha again, who seemed to be playing solitaire on her phone. Whispering, he asked, “Am I crazy? There wasn’t anyone named Jean-Paul in that movie, right?”

“Nope,” Natasha said, popping the ‘p.’ She looked up and smiled fondly at Steve, “I love him, but I think I’ll pass on any more avant-garde cinema in the future.”

Tony nodded, “Anybody else would have lost their voice by now. The theater guy’s going hoarse – now he’s just pounding the counter.” Tony listened more closely – his French was all right, but nothing to brag about. “Wait – he’s _agreeing with them?!_” He shook his head and rolled his eyes, “Okay, no way. I’m calling a cab you want a ride?”

“Lovely. My phone just died. I’m in,” Natasha agreed, lips pressed together in a grim line. “Oh my god… this is the life I _chose_ for myself….”

When the cab arrived, Tony put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, “It’s getting late, sweetheart. Nat and I are gonna take a cab back to the hotel, okay?”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Tony.” Bucky looked down and traced the edge of the bar in the atrium with his thumb. “Was this worse than Hammer Industries taking over the restaurant?”

Tony laughed, “Not quite?” but the possibility hovered. He smiled and kissed Bucky lightly once on the corner of his mouth, “You and Steve have fun. Don’t stay out too late, okay?”

Bucky smiled, a little sadly, “Yeah, okay. G’night Tony.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The next morning, Tony felt better again. He and Natasha had planned several activities in the cab ride back to the hotel to limit their chances of running into each other on their dates. No presentations today at the conference meant he was fancy free to spend all day with Bucky. If Bucky _wanted_ another date. Last night really hadn’t been that great… though the dinner in between had ended up being all right.

Tony clung to that hope and came down to the hotel lobby for coffee and to locate his would-be date. Waiting for his coffee to finish brewing in the little press pot, Tony spied Bucky in the hotel bar with his forehead resting on the bar. The five minutes up, Tony pressed and poured his coffee, asked the waiter for a second cup, and brought both cups over so he could join Bucky. “G’morning From Russia With Love. You okay? Brought you some coffee. How late did you and Steve stay out?”

Bucky sat up, staring at Tony as though his brain was trying to find the subtitles. “What?”

“I. Brought. You. Coffee.” Tony repeated slowly. “I suggest laying off the avant-garde film if it makes you this depressed. Or are you hungover? I couldn’t tell from over there.” He continued as Bucky took the cup, “We need to bring the cups back to the restaurant, so I suggest you come back with me before I lose my table.” Tony raised his eyebrows hopefully.

“What? Yeah! Yes.” Bucky stood so fast he almost dumped his coffee. “I figured you wouldn’t want to see me again with how bad last night turned out.”

Tony walked with him out of the bar, back to his table in the hotel’s restaurant. “Why? You’re allowed to like things that I don’t. Because I like _you_ and to prove there’s no hard feelings, I will even say that I agree with you that the woman’s lost pen did not represent her trying to find herself in some kind of weird Freudian office supply-based, post-women’s movement fog.”

At that, Bucky laughed and kissed Tony on the cheek. “Anybody tell you you’re wonderful today?”

Sighing dramatically, Tony said, “Nope, not so far. If only there were a gorgeous super soldier around to whisper those kinds of sweet nothings to me.”

He hadn’t expected Bucky to do anything other than laugh again, but Bucky leaned over, lips brushing the edge of Tony’s ear, “You’re wonderful, Tony.”

Turning scarlet, Tony tried not to look too pleased and turned his attention back to his coffee – and securing a date for that day. “So… I had a great idea for a date today. There’s a place we can rent bicycles and we can ride around in the parks today. Have some lunch – it’ll be fantastic. Whaddya say?”

Bucky’s brow creased and he raised an eyebrow, coffee cup halfway to his lips. “Tony… it’s raining.”

Tony looked out the large windows at the front of the restaurant. A clap of thunder emphasized just how hard the rain was coming down and he frowned, “Well, that’s not according to plan.”

“Plan?” Bucky asked, sipping his coffee.

“Nat and I made a plan so we could date our boyfriends in peace and not keep running into each other,” Tony grumbled.

“Boyfriends?” Bucky asked, eyebrows raised again, but this time with surprise.

“Yeah – you and Steve.” Tony sighed, not realizing exactly what he’d said. “She and I don’t have multiple boyfriends if that’s what you’re asking.”

Bucky shook his head and smiled fondly at Tony, “No – that clears everything up, sweetheart.” He thought a moment and said, “I’ve never been to the Louvre – we could go there…”

Tony sighed again. That was where Natasha was taking Steve today. But… the Louvre was a big place. They’d just take a different tour, that’s all. “Sure – that sounds great.”

After another leisurely breakfast, Tony called a cab and they were on their way to the Louvre. Tony handed his credit card to the ticket agent. “Two for the “Might of Aphrodite” tour.

The ticket agent looked up, “Je suis désolé monsieur. That tour is no longer available.” _I’m sorry sir._

“What? I mean, pardon?” Tony’s French was deteriorating in the face of the obstacles between him having an enjoyable day with Bucky and their present circumstances. “What about “Heroes of the Acropolis?”

The ticket agent shook his head slightly and looked sorrowful. “Je suis – ”

“Désolé. Yeah, I know,” Tony grouched.

Bucky put an arm around Tony’s shoulders, “What’ve you got that’s open right now?”

Aaaand that was how they found themselves on the “Sumerian City States” walking tour with audio accompaniment. “I don’t care about the Perforated Tablet of Dudu,” Tony complained.

“Plaque. ‘Perforated plaque,’” Bucky corrected with a smile.

“I still don’t care,” Tony said and scowled. He was wondering if they’d ever have a good date. Then an even worse thought occurred to him – what if the universe was trying to tell them something?

They started to go around a corner, when Bucky pulled Tony close to him, back in the direction they’d just come from. “Steve and Natasha,” Bucky hissed as he tugged Tony along briskly, weaving through the displays of cuneiform tablets and wide-eyed statuettes until they came through the entrance from the Richelieu section of the museum and into the lobby under the glass pyramid.

Bucky finally came to a stop under the spiral staircase to ground level, where he wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, drawing him in and kissed him firmly. He pulled away and blinked. “Um… sorry about that… I just…,” Bucky blushed and started again, “If we wanted a double date, we’d set one up, right?” He blushed even redder, the tips of his ears almost turning almost purplish and mumbled shyly, “Just kinda want you to myself today if you don’t mind.”

Tony looked up at Bucky. Until this particular moment, he’d acknowledged, but not fully realized how much taller Bucky was. He shook his head and mumbled something that was supposed to indicate that no, he didn’t mind, but Tony couldn’t have said what words actually passed his lips. The next words he remembered saying were, “You’re kinda tall,” with one hand on Bucky’s chest and the other on his shoulder.

Tilting his head slightly to the side, Bucky regarded Tony. “That all right?”

Tony nodded dumbly, then moved his hand from Bucky’s shoulder to the back of his neck and pulled Bucky down to kiss him again. Bucky’s lips felt warm and firm with just the right amount of roughness around his mouth from the stubble of facial hair that scraped Tony’s lips. Bucky’s mouth still tasted like the sweet crepes he’d had for breakfast.

When Tony pulled away, he realized Bucky still had his metal arm wrapped around Tony’s waist, but was supporting them both with his other hand against the staircase. Bucky looked down at Tony, cheeks lightly flushed and lower lip reddish and kiss-swollen and Tony threw out his doubts around universal wisdom, deciding on the spot that he didn’t care – this was the face he wanted to see in the morning when he woke up and at night when he went to sleep.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open when Tony pulled away and he looked into Tony’s eyes and thought how much deeper those brown eyes were than his own. After a long moment, he realized he was staring and sucked his lower lip, “Do you w-?”

“Yes,” Tony interrupted.

Laughing, Bucky said, “I didn’t even finish my question.”

“Don’t care – my answer is yes,” Tony replied seriously.

Still grinning and not moving away from Tony in the slightest, Bucky said, “I might’ve been askin’ if you wanted to see the art film double feature.”

“But you weren’t. You were gonna ask me something that I was going to say yes to.” Tony smiled up at him and Bucky’s heart melted.

“Maybe, yeah. I was gonna ask if you wanted to see the Nike of Samothrace and go over to that side of the museum,” Bucky admitted.

“See?” Tony said, gloating just a bit before kissing Bucky just below the ear. “I’d absolutely agree to that.”  


Bucky hummed, satisfied, and took his time letting Tony go enough to walk to the Denon Wing. For the rest of the afternoon, they strolled through the museum, unhurried, each with an arm around the other’s waist. Hours later, outside waiting for the cab to take them back to the hotel, Tony rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder, mumbling, “Glad you’re tall enough that I can get away with this.”

Bucky turned his head and kissed Tony’s hair. “Me too.”

Probably a dozen taxis came and went while they sat together, just enjoying being close to one another. They didn’t actually start paying attention until dark clouds started rolling in again.

“Let’s have a picnic – just a quick one before the rain comes again. Bread, some good cheese, a little wine?” Bucky suggested.

“Hmm… very French. Wanna sit on the bank of the Seinne?” Tony asked, trying to be helpful.

Smiling softly, Bucky agreed, “Sounds good. Très romantique, mon cher.”

They walked off without a taxi (or umbrella), oblivious to the dark clouds rolling in as they made their way to the bakery, cheese shop, and wine store each in turn. As they sat on the bank of the Seine, Tony tore off pieces of bread to feed to Bucky. Bucky pretended not to kiss Tony’s fingers each time.

The two were so involved with each other, trading the bottle of wine back and forth, drinking straight from the bottle, that they didn’t notice a crowd beginning to assemble. Or the people putting together the components of a sound system. Thus, when the soothing sway of brass instruments began, Tony startled and dropped the bottle into the river, narrowly missing a couple in a small boat.

Tony frowned at the river carrying away a third of their picnic and glared over his shoulder at a crowd of people who’d begun dancing in the park behind them. “Rude,” he muttered.

Bucky was listening to the music, though, “Hey, I know this one… It’s Edith Piaf.” He stood up and offered Tony his hand. “Wanna dance?”

Tony looked up at Bucky smiling down at him, so softly and sweetly and the resentment about losing the wine vanished. He took Bucky’s hand, “Yeah, I’d love to.”

All the hours spent dancing in his youth, paid off in muscle memory for Bucky and Tony let him lead as they danced in the park as Bucky murmured translations of the French lyrics in Tony’s ear. The couple continued dancing after the dancing flash mob left and the pigeons ate the rest of their picnic.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Several days later, a package arrived at an old house in Paris, covered with vines. Inside, the girls at the academy found a dozen of the flakiest croissants they’d ever seen, chocolate, and a bottle of wine for their teacher. The note inside said,  


> Mlle,
> 
> Nos plus sincères remerciements pour tout ce que vous avez fait pour nous. Nous vous devons notre bonheur, à vous et à un certain élève. On ne peut pas vous remercier assez.  

> 
> Tes amis,  

> 
> TS et BB
> 
> _Miss,  
_
> 
> _Our sincerest thanks for all you've done for us. We owe our happiness to you and a certain student. We can't thank you all enough.  
_
> 
> _Your friends,  
_
> 
> _TS and BB_

That’s all there is. There isn’t any more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @rebelmeg, @justanotherpipedream, and @nomdeplumeria for brainstorming this idea with me on the Winteriron Discord server! And thank you to @kimannhart for their awesome beta skills. Also thanks to Kimannhart and Justanotherpipedream for their awesomely inspiring bread-based puns. XD In the Discord group, this has been referred to as "Hon Hon Hon Le Baguette, part deux" for quite awhile - thus the series name. :D
> 
> Any references to a certain French schoolgirl with a yellow hat, an old house in Paris, etc... are purely for parodic purposes. :D All references to works of art are as accurate as I know - except for _Shut the Door Jean-Paul_ which is entirely fictional.
> 
> Also, my knowledge of French is sketchy, but the translations I used made sense to me. If I've messed it up though, please let me know and I'll fix it!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this as much as I did! Feel free to let me know! :D


End file.
